


Stolen Innocence

by Southern_Breeze



Category: Aladdin: The Animated Series
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Kidnapping, Pregnancy, Secrets, old enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Breeze/pseuds/Southern_Breeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aladdin and Jasmine have married and are expecting their first child. While this should be a time of happiness, Mozenrath has returned and seems to have plans for their child as well. Has characters and references to the third movie, but is set in the series reality. Constructive Criticism is loved. Another one of my stories written a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Golden Seas and Familiar Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Aladdin is owned by Disney, but you knew that didn't you.

Chapter 1: Golden Seas and Familiar Faces

The sun arose early on Agrabah only to find the city awake and bustling. Merchants had opened their shops and stalls early as the people bustled about the streets. Talk was loud and lively; punctuated here and there by a joyous laugh. Never before had the city been so crowded or alive.

Princess Jasmine sat quietly in an open window of one of the high towers of the palace, listening to the sounds of the people as it drifted to her ears like distant music. Because of the high wall, she actually could see only the far outskirts of Agrabah - and the seemingly endless, surrounding sands. When she had been a young girl, she had often come to this room to play. After a bit, she would almost always find herself sitting at this window, her expensive doll lying forgotten on the floor. As she looked out, she would imagine herself on a mountain in the heart of deserted island in the middle of a golden sea. If she saw travelers heading towards her, then it was a ship of either blood-thirsty pirates she would have to fight, or kindly merchants who would allow her to go with them on their journey. What the ship held depended on her mood, but this was a daydream that continued even after her dolls had been retired to a shelf.

There's enough ships now for every pirate in the world, Jasmine thought as she watched a long line of people making their way to Agrabah through a thick veil of dust. There were more people here then when she got married, and all of them were waiting for 'the day.'

So much had changed since the last time she had sat at this window. She was no longer a naïve little princess. Now, she was a woman, a wife, and a soon-to-be mother. With a gentle smile, she rubbed her hands over her extended abdomen and she could feel the life stirring inside her.

"So, here you are," a voice spoke from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned to see Aladdin standing there, his face reflecting her own joy. "You were looking for me?" she asked.

He nodded as he walked over to her. His first actions was the same as always since he first learned she was expecting - a gentle kiss followed by placing his hands over hers.

Over their child.

Still smiling, he took a half step back without removing his hands, and a tiny flash of fear shone in his dark eyes. She understood his feelings. The whole concept of her being pregnant and becoming a parent was a bit overwhelming, but Aladdin did his best to hide his fear. A single blink and his deep brown eyes only sparkled with joy and excitement. "Do you have any special requests for breakfast?" he questioned, "The cook doesn't want to be surprised at the last minute again."

Jasmine laughed aloud. Her cravings had become quite strong and varied as of late. She could just picture the cook's round, flushed face and the strange expression he wore whenever she made one of her strange requests. "Nothing special today," she answered, as she moved her hand to hold his, "I'm just hungry."

Hand in hand, they left the room and headed towards the dining hall. However, Jasmine's mind was occupied with all the decorations and changes to made to the room that had been so special to her as a child.

Soon, it would become the perfect nursery.

(*)

Through the crowded city streets, guards slowly walked in small groups as they looked for anything amiss. These were not the elite or head guards, but a small band of low ranking newcomers especially chosen by Razul to watch the streets, and the resentment was clear upon their faces. The palace was the important location, but there job was just be a presence. They had gotten the chance to break up an illegal gambling center, taking wagers on the gender of the unborn child, but nothing else had happened. Casually, their eyes scanned the crowd and the seemingly endless row of merchants, sliding from one face to another - unaware of the slightly smug smile of a man selling simple pottery.

Cassim watched the guards that had walked by him without so much of a second glance until they were swallowed by the swarm of people. His disguise was amusingly simple but apparently effective. He had remembered well the teaching of the thief Malik, who had taken him under his tutelage so many years ago.

"There three things you need to know about a good disguise," Malik had said, while holding up three gnarled fingers as if for emphasis, "First, keep it simple. Anything too elaborate will just scream disguise and you might as well go around shouting your name at the top of your lungs. Second, add one little detail to attract attention, but only a little bit - like a limp or some sort of small injury. Anything too big will only make you more noticeable, but something small will actually divert attention. If you have a lame leg, people will look at your leg rather than your face. Lastly, and this is the most important, you have to look like you belong. If you keep looking around like you're some sort of animal that's supposed to be in cage, then that's what other people will think of you. You have to look like you have as much reason and right to be there as anyone else. Do you got that, boy?"

Cassim smiled slightly at the memory. Old Malik was ancient before Cassim had ever met him with one foot deep in the grave. He had been a small man, thin to the point of near emaciation, with a wrinkled bald dome of head. Years prior, an accident of some sort had left him blinded in his right eye, and the sightless blue orb was known to make men uneasy. Yet, there had been intelligence and kindness sparkling in his left eye, and his speech sometimes betrayed an education not typically found among thieves. Cassim had often mused what had led a man such as Malik down a felonious path, but it was a forbidden question to ask.

Well, old friend, he thought to himself, if only you were still around so I could show you what I've learned.

His disguise surely would have been Malik approved. With some reluctance, he had shaved his beard and mustache. When he was first married his young wife, Joharra, had told him that his facial hair gave him a look of elegance and refinement, but his wife was gone and so were his days of vanity. Revealing his cleanly shaven face, he wore an dirty white hood, that hung slightly low over his eyes, but not so low as to arouse suspicion. To complete the disguise, he had used a tiny bit of ink mixed with sand to create the illusion of a small, old scar running alongside his mouth. Just as he knew it would, the guards' eyes had paused briefly upon the scar before sliding off his face. To them, he was just a simple merchant standing behind his booth while trying to sell unremarkable pottery.

"I told you it would work," he stated in a soft voice that he directed towards the peaked roof of the tent which covered his stand.

"It's still a big risk," Iago said, looking down from a small wooden plank.

"Risks are a part of life, my friend," Cassim responded, pleased at how well his tent design was working. He could easily be disguised as a normal shopkeeper, but Iago would always stand out like, well, a brightly-colored, tropical bird in the middle of the desert. Even if he wasn't recognized as 'that parrot,' he would still draw too much attention. Cassim solved this problem by building a tent with a high peaked roof and a perch, which allowed the bird a comfortable place where he couldn't be easily seen by the public.

Being unusually quiet, Iago merely shrugged at Cassim's statement and turned his attention back to a tiny series of holes in the tent that allowed him to watch the crowd unseen. Although he hadn't said anything directly, Cassim knew the parrot was looking forward to seeing his old comrades. During much of the previous night, Iago had talked almost incessantly about the 'stupid monkey' - a term which seemed more affection than insult.

Cassim was excited as well. He knew that a team of physicians were staying in the palace all hours, so his first grandchild would soon make his or her first appearance in this world. He could barely contain himself.

Trying to look the part of a normal merchant, he tried to clear his face of excitement as he scanned the crowd, pretending to be looking for perspective customers. Almost immediately, his eyes were drawn to a young man that was looking directly at him.

Even thought he was standing in the center of the crowd, this stranger stood out from the rest of the people. He was wearing a deep blue robe with a low, gold-trimmed hood, but the face that was revealed below the hood was oddly beautiful. It was a slender face, but the proportions of the slim, patrician nose and well-defined eyes seemed perfect. His complexion was unusually fair for the desert, and it gave him a look of being cast in marble. Dark waves of hair, as ebony as midnight's veil, curled about his face in a casually elegant manner. The only visible flaw was that he seemed a bit too thin - his robe hanging loosely on his frame. He probably had never been very big, but it looked as if he might have lost some weight recently. Without speaking, he stood like a statue erected in the middle of the square, a strange look in his shadowed, dark eyes.

He recognizes me, Cassim thought as he took an involuntary step back. For a brief moment, Cassim steeled himself for the inevitable cry of alarm and the rush of the guard. Then he realized that he was merely seeing a reflection of himself for they were both men in disguise. The young stranger even seemed to be following Malik's rules, right down to a bandaged right hand, the fingers of which hung only slightly lower then his sleeve. Unfortunately, with such fair and sculpted features, it would be impossible for him to blend into a crowd seamlessly.

As if unaware of the intense stare, Cassium pretended to notice something wrong with his tent and brought his hands up to fix the problem. With his arms blocking the view of his face, he glanced up at Iago to ask if he had noticed the disguised stranger.

One look at the parrot provided more than enough answer. Iago's beak was hanging open, and his eyes had grown wide as if he had just seen a ghost. He could overreact at times, it was in his nature, but Cassim could tell that this was different. Iago was truly afraid of the handsome young man in the blue robe. Cautiously, Cassim risked another look into the crowd.

The stranger had vanished.

Frowning, Cassim brought down his hands and looked around, but only saw the typical mob of people. There was no hint of a blue robed figured anywhere. It was as if the hot, dry air had simply swallowed him whole. Cassim looked back up at Iago, who still looked as if he was about to panic. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Mozenrath," Iago replied, spitting out the name as if it were a foul taste.

"Mozenrath," Cassim repeated thoughtfully, but the name held no recognition, "I take it he's not a friend."

"He's trouble," Iago clarified, "Remember me telling you about Jafar? Well, this kid's a hundred times worse. Cold, ruthless, powerful - and those are his good qualities!" His voice rose slightly as he shook his head. "He shouldn't even be here. Him being in town will only mean trouble for Al."

"Should we warn Aladdin?" questioned Cassim.

Iago nodded, "He'll want to know Mozenrath's back in the neighborhood."

"Okay then," Cassim said, "We'll wait for nightfall. Then, you can simply fly into the palace and…"

"Hold it right there," Iago interrupted, "Why am I doing all the sneaking? You're the master thief around here. Playing hero isn't my thing, you know."

"I know, but it would be easier for you to simply fly in. You're familiar with the palace. I might be able to sneak in, but it's risky with all the guards posted now." Cassim smiled humorlessly. "Besides, what exactly would you do if I was captured? I'm your meal ticket after all."

"Good point," Iago consented, although he still look very convinced.

Cassim sighed softly, fairly confident that the bird would help him. Still, he couldn't help but allow worry to creep into his mind. Iago was obviously very frightened of this Mozenrath, but was this fear justified? Did the young sorcerer really pose that big of a threat? Cassim mulled these thoughts in his mind as the rest of the tow passed by happily. Yet, there was more question that burned in his mind.

Why did Mozenrath seem familiar?


	2. Shattered Memories and Dire Warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: When I started this chapter, I decided I wanted to tie it into the last episode that Mozenrath was featured. I looked up episode lists on two different sites and both said that the last episode was episode 85, "Two to Tangle." I watched that episode again to tie it into this story. However, while writing, I would take breaks and watch other Mozenrath episodes and found that many fans said the last episode he was in was actually "The Hunted." I can't find any definitive proof one way or the other, and there's a good chance that "The Hunted" was shown later despite the episode numbers. Unfortunately, I had already started this chapter and the ending of "Two to Tangle" fit much better with my plans. I decided to leave this chapter as is, so please just assume that "Two to Tangle" was the last episode and thus the last time Aladdin and Mozenrath crossed paths.

Chapter 2: Shattered Memories and Dire Warnings

The arid wind slipped across the black sand like a lost dancer, inching her way towards doom. Sometimes, it howled mournfully, as if knowing the end was near, but all of this was ignored by the single figure trudging through the sand that slipped and grasped at his ankles. Mozenrath usually stood tall, his steps firm no matter the terrain, but he was tired. His slender shoulders were slumped slightly as if he was carrying a heavy load, but his eyes were direct and hard. His body was almost broken, but his spirit raged as fiery as ever.

"Master back! Master back!" Xerxes shouted, the peculiar eel flying over to him.

Distractedly, Mozenrath petted the top of the familiar's head as he made his way into his palace, which had fallen into disrepair recently. He paused momentarily as he looked over his land, black and barren. There were no Mamluks shambling about the region. Without his magic, the half dead creatures quickly decayed, and their corpses decorated the area like pieces to a morbid jigsaw puzzle.

Anger flared in Mozenrath as he clenched his right hand in a tight fist. Some of the bandages had slipped, and the smooth white of the naked bone glistened like a pearl. Aladdin had taken everything away from him.

He could remember distinctly the last time the he had met up with that street rat. His glorious plans were foiled as always, but this time insult was heaped upon him. Aladdin had locked him in something of a giant bird cage, which was attached to a large balloon filled with hot air. Just out of his reach, Aladdin had held his beloved gauntlet, the source of his power, in his grubby hands. Mozenrath winced at the memory of how he had pleaded for his gauntlet, groveling like some pathetic, lowly peasant, but Aladdin hadn't relented. He had made some crack about the gauntlet being bad for his health, and then his cage was released to float far into the sky.

Mozenrath wasn't sure how far he had traveled before encountering a terrible storm. He was thrown about in his floating prison and, at some point, must have struck his head because the next thing he remembered was waking up in an overgrown forest. He had wandered for days, not knowing if he should go left or right, just wishing he could find someone or something that could tell him where he was at. Finally, he came to a remote and obviously underprivileged village. He ripped what was left of his tattered cape to covered his fleshless right hand so as to not to frighten the locals, and made his way down the dirt streets. The sight of a young man in the ripped and dirty remains of what once beautiful and finely-crafted clothes seemed to move the people, and they had hurried forward to help them. A part of him had loathed these people. There were so plain and so far below him, but he couldn't deny one simple truth.

He needed their help.

Swallowing his pride, he had accepted their assistance of food and clothing. The plain brown garb and simple boots were unsuited for him, but his sore feet and scratched skin welcomed the gifts. The only thing they hadn't been to help him was how to get home, but they did give him an idea of a general direction.

So he had traveled, slowly and on foot. Ever so often, he was able to get a ride with some cart driver, yet each time he had to admit he had no means to pay. A few drove ride past him, but others had shown kindness.

The lowly had actually felt pity for him. How revolting it had felt.

Slowly, step by step, he had made his way back to his palace in the land of the black sand. Without any magic, the palace had begun to deteriorate, but a part of him had been so happy just to see it. Xerxes was waiting for him eagerly. The eel had slipped free of cage just before the storm hit, but the wind had carried Mozenrath out of his sight before he could help him escape as well. Xerxes had gone back to the black palace and had thankfully waited. It was the only thing that had gone right.

At first, Mozenrath had no idea what his next step should be. He figured that his gauntlet might be locked up in the palace somewhere, but without any magic, it would be difficult to take back. However, he simply couldn't live without his powers. A small, rational part of his mind recognized that he had survived his ordeal only because he hadn't been wearing the gauntlet, but he was more than prepared for the trade-off.

His answer had wandered into one of his old traps a few days later, a cage made of the insidious black sand. The traveler had been obviously unaware of Mozenrath's predicament, and pleaded for his life in a beautifully plaintive fashion. For the first time in so long, Mozenrath had actually felt like his old self as he taunted the poor traveler and casually went through the man's belongings, keeping his naked right hand hidden. However, as he undid a simply wrapped package to reveal a book for a young child, a strange feeling slowly swept over him.

"What's this?" he had asked.

"It's just a simple gift," the man had answered, "For the child of Princess Jasmine and Aladdin."

"They have a child!" Mozenrath had roared, feeling his face growing flushed with anger.

The man had quickly explained that the Princess was merely expecting, although the child was probably going to be born soon. He had seemed almost insulted with Mozenrath had asked if Jasmine and the street rat were married, seemingly horrified that a member of the royal family of Agrabah would have a child out of wedlock, but his answers shocked the sorcerer.

"How long have I been gone?" he had muttered, leaving the man in the trap. For the past two days, the man's cries and pleadings had been almost like music in this desolate land, but he had finally grown silent. Mozenrath didn't know if his voice had failed him or if he was at last dead.

With new resolve, Mozenrath had finally headed out for Agrabah himself only to find it in the middle of celebration. Now would be the perfect time for his return, but it was impossible to do without his magic, and the palace was being even more closely guarded. Standing in the square, he was puzzling this dilemma when a man had caught his attention.

For a brief moment, he feared he had been gone much longer than he thought for the man looked like an older version of Aladdin. Yet, as he stared at him, he had realized that it wasn't the street rat at all. It was just a vendor of some cheap pots - but at the same time he knew there was something more to him. The man soon saw him as well, and there had been a look of recognition. When the man had looked away, Mozenrath slipped back into the crowd and had stealthily made his way home. Yet, the man's face haunted him.

Xerxes floated by Mozenrath's side, concern apparent on his slimy face, but the sorcerer pushed him aside as he reached a large ornate door in the inner sanctum of his palace. "I must be alone," he said, without offering any more explanation. Xerxes looked hurt as Mozenrath walked into the room, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud.

Not even the most magnificent palaces in the richest kingdoms could boast a library such as he had. Standing side by side like wooden giants were massive bookcases that stretched from the marble floor to the high domed ceiling, and there wasn't a blank spot to found upon those shelves. Every book on magic - spells, history, and lore was located here. He always found this room to be comforting in a way, but this wasn't his final destination.

Walking through the library, his shoes whispering like lost souls upon the floor, he made his way to a tiny, splintering door in the back. Xerxes had once asked what this room was, but he waved away the question as if it were a foul odor and had locked this door magically. Now, he could only hope that the magic seal had decayed just like everything else had.

It only took shoving the door a few times with his shoulder to open it, as the dust rolled out in a dirty sea. The gloom inside was almost a physical presence, and Mozenrath just stood in the doorway until his eyes adjusted. Nothing inside had changed, as if time didn't exist within the tiny room. He gazed upon the sagging bed, straw sticking out from beneath the sheets, a tiny shelf with a single book and melted candle, and a lopsided chair with a brown cloak draped over it.

How many years was this his room?

He had been brought to Destane when he had been seven or eight - he couldn't remember exactly how old. The Shadow Woman in the brown cloak had taken him here, and he had seen a few coins exchange hands. Even in his youth he wondered if he was being sold, especially when Destane had looked down and sneered, "You're mine now, boy."

Why the old sorcerer actually wanted him, Mozenrath never really knew. He treated the boy like a pack mule at times, hanging the tantalizing carrot of magic just out of his reach, but Mozenrath took advantage of his master's age. While Destane slept, Mozenrath would sneak a single book out of the library and read it by candlelight in his small room. Sometimes, he would stay up so late, that he would have trouble staying awake during the next day's chores. Destane didn't hesitate to discipline roughly during these instances, but Mozenrath took in all his stride. Each night he learned more and he was moving closer to his goal.

Besides, he had the gauntlet.

The Shadow Woman had given it to him, unbeknownst to Destane. When Mozenrath put it on, he could feel the power surging through his veins, and sometimes he could hear the Shadow Woman whispering in his ear, telling he what he should do next. She had been by his side the day he had taken control of this kingdom, stealing Destane's powers and reducing him to a Mamluk. However, she had been silent for many years now.

Walking into the room, Mozenrath made his way over to the rickety shelf and removed the book. A sudden chill passed through him as he realized that it was the same children's book as the traveler he had just recently captured had been carrying. Opening the worn cover, he looked upon the first page and read aloud the strange name that was printed there. Forbidden memories slipped into his mind and he heard the breath of the Shadow Woman fill the room. Turning slightly, his eyes were drawn to the brown cloak and he heard the whisper of instructions tickle his ear.

Suddenly, he knew exactly what he had to do.

(*)

Night had cast her silent, starry veil across Agrabah, and the city had seemingly fallen asleep. There were a few stragglers, taking their celebration to the street, but they were quickly silenced by the guards. All was quiet and peaceful, but the same could not be said for one room of the palace. Jasmine was sitting upon the plush bed, and Aladdin was standing close by, glancing back and forth between his wife and the excited parrot who had just recently made his appearance. Iago was sitting on a purple pillow beside of Abu. The monkey had already hugged Iago multiple time and it was obvious that, despite protests, the parrot had missed his furry friend.

"Mozenrath is back?" Aladdin asked.

Iago nodded. "That's what I said. I saw him in town a few hours ago," he said, "Just standing there like he was lost or something and staring a hole through Cassim."

"Why would he be staring at my father?" Aladdin wondered aloud.

"Well, he does look a lot like you," Jasmine offered.

"Especially since he shaved off his beard," Iago added, "He doesn't exactly look your age, but it's obvious you two are related."

"I wonder what Mozenrath wants," Aladdin said.

"What do you think?!" Iago shrieked, flying into the air to land on Aladdin's shoulder, "Wonder Kid's out for revenge, just like always!"

"But he doesn't have his powers," Jasmine stated, shifting her weight, "Isn't his gauntlet still locked up in the treasury?"

"It was the last time I looked," Aladdin answered, "But I should probably check again."

"Moze did have his right hand bandaged up like a mummy," added Iago, "I didn't see any sort of gauntlet."

Aladdin sighed, "At least that much is good news, but I wish Genie wasn't out of town. What a time for a Genie convention!"

"He said he'd be back soon," Jasmine said, "Don't worry."

"You're right," Aladdin agreed, "We'll tell the guards to be on the lookout, and will have to tighten security even more." He looked at Iago. "Tell my father I'll come to see him later. It will too risky for him to even get near the palace for awhile."

"He's holed up at your old place," the parrot announced, "I thought it was too obvious, but he said it was the perfect hiding spot."

"I'll be by when I can," Aladdin said, "And thanks, Iago."

"Whatever," Iago responded, flying up into the air, "But this is the last time I play messenger." In direct contrast to his words, he smiled slightly before flying out the window to meet up with Cassim.

"Mozenrath," Aladdin growled once Iago was gone, "I thought he was finally gone."

"Don't worry, Aladdin," Jasmine soothed, walking over to him and taking his arm, "Everything will be fine. It always is."

"You're right," Aladdin agreed, trying to smile, but the look in his eyes betrayed his fear.

Somehow, he had to protect Jasmine and his child.


	3. Deadly Whispers and Criminal Pardons

Chapter 3: Deadly Whispers and Criminal Pardons

Jasmine sat at the open window in her special room, the first decorations for the nursery hanging on the walls behind her. The city below had changed seemingly overnight. The streets were quiet, as if a great fog of silence had choked out the celebration, and tension hung in the air like a spider web. After receiving Iago's warning, she and Aladdin had talked to her father, who had alerted Razul. Mozenrath was their most dangerous adversary in many ways, and Razul wasn't about to take any chances. Even more guards were called out and the streets were now under strict surveillance. There was no official notice to the townspeople, but they were not blind to the increased presence and enforcement of the guards. The fact that nothing had been said only seem to have given birth to rumors, that ran through the streets on nimble feet. A few had even managed to slip into the castle, much to Jasmine's annoyance.

She sighed to herself as she leaned slightly out of the window. A single wind slid past, caressing her long, black hair with its slender fingers, but it didn't caress her heart or mind. She had insisted to Aladdin that there was no real for concern. They still had Mozenrath's glove and, without it, he was powerless. With no magic, it wasn't like he could come barging into the palace. It was doubtful he could even step foot inside of Agrabah without being noticed by the guards.

Yet, for all her words, she remained uneasy and nervous. It was true that the glove was still safely locked away, but the sorcerer had proven to be tenacious and crafty in the past. If there was any way that he could reclaim his precious gauntlet, he would find it. Besides, it wasn't just herself she had to be worried about these days. As if on cue, the baby kicked and Jasmine felt tears well up in her eyes. She wished for the birth to happen soon so she could protect her child with her arms rather than just sitting behind the guards and playing it safe.

Suddenly, she felt the air around her grow heavy and there was the soft tickling of warm breath upon her shoulders. Spinning around, she found herself face to face with Mozenrath, a venomous smile curled upon his sinisterly handsome face. Without thinking, she jumped back, but soon felt the tug of gravity upon her body. She was going to fall out of the window.

Mozenrath grabbed her arms, stopping her fall, and pulled her back to windowsill. For a insane moment, Jasmine tried to wrap her mind around the fact that he had just saved her as he brought his face close to her own. A casual observer might think they were about to kiss as their lips were only inches apart, but there was no love imprinted on either of their features. "If you scream," he whispered, "I will drop you." There was no doubting his words. "Do you understand?"

She nodded mutely, and his smile grew. With a casual, deliberate pace, he allowed his gaze to slip from her face and slide down her body. Despite her best intentions, she couldn't help but squirm slightly under the weight of his visual inspection. She could actually feel his eyes slithering down her form and couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief when they drifted back to her face.

"I've heard that a woman is most beautiful when they're pregnant," he began, his voice soft and cultured, "It's something about the way they glow with joy and sparkle with life." He chuckled softly. "I'm afraid I just don't see it."

"What do you want?" she demanded in a low voice.

His face became hard. "What do I want?" he repeated, "What do you think I want?" He released her left arm, causing her to tilt back wildly, and brought his right fist before her face. She gasped when she saw the gauntlet, the ragged stitching indicating it was not the same one that was under lock and key. "Aladdin took everything from me. Now, I intend to return the favor."

Voices from below began to rise like mist. "The Princess is falling from the window!" She could hear people rushing about, but couldn't see much of what was happening, but realized that this was working into Mozenrath's plan. After a few moments, he roughly jerked her away from the window and pulled her to the center of the room. He seemed to be waiting for something, but she had no idea what exactly.

Her answer came quickly, as Aladdin soon flew up to the window on carpet. "Jasmine, are you…" he began, but his voice trailed off when he saw her in Mozenrath's clutches. "Mozenrath!" Aladdin cried, as carpet steered towards the window.

"Ah, Aladdin," Mozenrath said with mock civility, raising his hand almost calmly to hit carpet with a ball of blue magic, knocking him back and out of under Aladdin. Instead of falling, Aladdin was able to jump forward at the last minute to grab onto the windowsill and crawl into the room. "It's nice to see you again," the sorcerer continued.

"Let her go," Aladdin commanded.

"Now, why would I do that," countered Mozenrath, "I mean here we are finally getting to catch up on old times."

Aladdin ran forward as if trying to tackle his adversary, but Mozenrath seemed more than prepared. In fact, he seemed almost bored as his magic simply picked Aladdin up and held him suspended in the air. He had always been powerful, but Jasmine realized that he somehow seemed more powerful now then in the past.

"Same old Aladdin," Mozenrath chided, "We should catch up on the past, but I have to run for now. The Princess and I have business to attend to." He laughed, as he grabbed his cape and swirled it up and over their heads in a fluid motion.

Jasmine was disorientated at first. One minute, she was standing in the nursery, watching Aladdin being suspended in the air, and the next her eyes were adjusting to the gloom of Mozenrath's palace in the heart of the black sand. With horror and disbelief, she looked about the room. A giant book, worn nearly to the point of falling apart, lay open on a massive wooden table that was decorated by what appeared to be other magical artifacts. A solid slab of rock rose up from the floor like a miniature mountain. The top was smooth and flat, and her eyes fell upon the solid shackles attached to the rocky surface. She couldn't see much beyond for the room was lit only but two large standing candles on either side of the slab. Xerxes dipped and dived in the candlelight, as if in celebration.

"Now, Jasmine," Mozenrath began, "If you'll be so kind as to lay on this granite table."

She whirled around, ignoring the way his left hand dug into her arm, and slapped him solidly across the face. The sound echoed loudly through the room like a distant clap of thunder.

Mozenrath wavered, but didn't lose his footing. His eyes sparkled like polished onyx, and his smile hadn't even slipped. In the flickering light, he looked like a demonic angel from the deepest pits of the underworld, and Jasmine felt the fear rise around her heart. "I see that you haven't totally changed," he finally said, "but I wouldn't recommend doing that again." He placed his right hand upon her abdomen, and she could see the glow of his magic. Her baby began to kick and squirm inside, seemingly aware of the dangerous situation. "After all," he added, "You have so much more to lose."

"More to lose! More to lose!" Xerxes echoed.

Tears came to Jasmine's eyes, but she wasn't going to allow herself to be washed in feelings of helplessness. Somehow, both her and her child were going to get out of this.

(*)

"I'm sorry, your highness," Razul said, bowing lowly.

"It is not your fault," responded the Sultan distractedly, "No one saw Mozenrath in time, but now he has my Jasmine. We must get her back."

"I will," Aladdin announced, "I shouldn't have left Jasmine alone. It's my fault, but I will rescue her."

"I'll go with you," Razul offered.

"No," Aladdin said, "I'm the one that Mozenrath really wants. There is one other person I'll have go with me." He stopped, leaving his words a bit of mystery. He didn't want to announce he was going to ask his father.

"Aladdin," the Sultan called after him, "Any man who helps to rescue my daughter will be excused of any past criminal activities."

Aladdin paused as he turned around in a bit of amazement. The Sultan had somehow knew the entire time that he was going to ask for his father's help, and now was offering him a pardon. "Thank you," Aladdin managed, choking with emotions.

With new hope and resolve, Aladdin ran from the palace to meet with father for their journey to the land of the black sand.


	4. Daring Rescues and Near Concussions

Chapter 4: Daring Rescues and Near Concussions

The sun slipped behind a dirty cloud, casting a shroud of shadows over the land. Aladdin stood at the top of an ebony dune, looking out over the sand and towards Mozenrath's lair, worry coiling in his stomach like an agitated cobra. There was no telling what the sorcerer's plans might be, and he was worried about Jasmine - and his child.

"Not exactly a vacation spot," Cassim said as he walked up behind Aladdin. He tried to be light with his tone, but the stillness of the air laced the question until it was thick and heavy. Still, Aladdin managed a slight smile and nodded to show he appreciated his father's efforts. Abu and Iago weren't even trying to mask their fear and trepidation, the emotions clearly engraved upon their faces.

Carpet had flown them most of the way, but Aladdin thought it would best to enter on foot to avoid Mozenrath's magic detectors. They had to hurry for Jasmine's sake, but he didn't want to announce their arrival either. Now, he was concerned about the mamluks. They weren't the smartest creatures, but the sheer number that inhabited this region made them a difficult obstacle. However, he had yet to see a single one. He was a bit confused, but at the same time he wasn't going to question any bit of good luck thrown his way.

As if peeking down to see their progress, the sun briefly made an appearance and illuminated the scene. Despite himself, Aladdin jumped back and almost fell when his eyes drank in the morbid sight that stretched before him like a surrealistic painting.

Pieces of mamluks lay half buried in the sand like rotting driftwood floating in a polluted sea. Lifeless hands reached out from the dirt, as if begging for help, lying in the midst of a random jumble of arms and legs. Near Aladdin's foot, a disembodied head stared sightlessly into the sky, almost as if asking for mercy from the heavens. This explained why they hadn't encountered any mamluks, but Aladdin's confusion only grew. Mozenrath had to know they were coming and, since he had his power back, it didn't make sense to just allow his mamluks to decay.

"The kid's got one twisted sense of landscaping," Iago announced.

"Everything about him is twisted," Aladdin replied tonelessly.

"Do you have a plan?" Cassim asked, laying his hand gently upon his son's shoulder.

Aladdin nodded. "When we get inside, I'll go on ahead to distract Mozenrath. While he's dealing with me, you rescue Jasmine."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" questioned Cassim.

"I'm the one Mozenrath really wants revenge on," Aladdin answered, "He'll be too busy with me to notice you."

Cassim looked as if he was going to object, but only shook his head. Silently, he helped Aladdin push open the heavy doors as they slipped inside of the forbidding palace. More of the young sorcerer's dark influence was illustrated by the interior décor, but no one made any comments about it. Aladdin quietly took the lead as he made his way towards Mozenrath's lab, where he feared Jasmine might have been brought.

His suspicions proved accurate when he slipped down a narrow staircase that led to the lab. Mozenrath was standing there, reading from a great spell book of some sort, and Jasmine was lying shackled to a massive stone table. Aladdin saw no movement from her, and he hoped that she was merely unconscious. There was no way for him to get near Jasmine without being seen, but he had already planned for that.

With a deep breath, he jumped from the staircase and landed gracefully upon the hard floor directly in front of Mozenrath. Xerxes, who had been floated about his master's shoulders, looked up with a distinct look of surprise, but Mozenrath didn't seem the least ruffled by Aladdin's sudden appearance

"I was wondering when you were going to drop in," Mozenrath said, calmly.

"Let Jasmine go, now!" Aladdin commanded.

Mozenrath smiled. "Why are you in such a hurry, Aladdin?" he purred, "I mean, you finally drop by for a visit so the least you could do is stay for awhile." Mozenrath threw a magic bolt towards Aladdin, who nimbly jumped out of the way and rolled to the far side of the room. He leapt to his feet and saw Mozenrath walking towards him. It was just as he hoped as he prepared for the next attack. Purposely, he kept his eyes on the sorcerer so as to not to draw any attention to Cassim who had slipped into the room as if he was nothing more than a shadow.

I'll have to ask him how he's does that so well, Aladdin thought to himself briefly, before dodging another attack. For all of his power, Mozenrath seemed a little off his game, most of his shots lacking the usual punch. When he had made his unexpected visit to Agrabah, Mozenrath had appeared even more powerful than usual, but now he seemed tired and disconnected. Perhaps this replacement gauntlet didn't compare to the original.

Cassim worked quickly and quietly to free Jasmine, who had slowly begun to regain consciousness. Aladdin was relieved, but he had no time to celebrate. His ploy was working perfectly so far, but he couldn't become overconfident at this point. Three of the shackles had been opened and Cassim was effortlessly working on the fourth.

"Just so you know," Mozenrath announced, straightening himself slightly, "I'm fully aware that you are nothing more than a distraction." With a laugh he whirled around and suddenly picked up Cassim with his magic. However, as his eyes fell upon the face of Aladdin's father, his laughter stopped abruptly. Mozenrath's eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips tightly. "It's you," he said, "You were the one I saw in the marketplace selling the cheap pottery."

"Say hello to my father!" Aladdin shouted, running across the room into Mozenrath, knocking him to the floor. The force of the blow caused him to momentarily release Cassim who started to fall to the floor. However, Mozenrath recovered quickly, shoving aside Aladdin who was reaching for his gauntlet. With a strange and unusual speed, he spun around and regained his control of Cassim while simultaneously lifting Aladdin into the air beside him.

"Your father, hmm?" Mozenrath began, his voice regaining all of its usual velvet smoothness, "I do see the resemblance - especially in how both of you managed to completely fail." He laughed deeply, the sound echoing on the stone walls so that it sounded like a chorus of wicked laughter.

"Fail this!" Jasmine yelled, swinging one of the heavy candle stands with all of her strength into the back of the sorcerer's head. While Mozenrath had been dealing with Aladdin and his father, Abu had finished freeing Jasmine unnoticed.

Mozenrath let out a cry of pain as he grabbed the back of his head. His focus shattered, Aladdin and Cassim were freed and fell to the floor. Mozenrath didn't seem to care as he stumbled as if drunk about the room. "Why you…" he mumbled.

"Careful what you say," Aladdin warned, walking over to stand beside Jasmine, "I've warned you in the past not to make her angry."

Mozenrath looked around the room with bleary eyes, and seemed to sense that he had been beaten. As if to say that he had given up, he suddenly vanished along with Xerxes, leaving Aladdin alone with his friends and family. It looked like they have won.

"Should we go after him?" Jasmine asked.

"No," Aladdin replied, "The most important thing now is to get you home. Mozenrath will be back, but he'll have to rest his bruised ego for awhile." He didn't quite believe his own words, despite the fact it was a comforting thought. However, he just wanted to get Jasmine away from this awful place at the moment. She didn't need the extra worry.

(*)

"They escape?" Xerxes asked in amazement.

"They think they have," Mozenrath answered, watching from an upstairs windows as Aladdin and the others left his kingdom. "They really thought they could beat me so easily. It's sad actually. Just wait until that child is born. Then, they'll find out what really happened here." He laughed deeply, but stopped as that only caused his aching head to throb worse. The truth was he had always planned to let them escape, let them think they could win so their later defeat would hurt more, but he had never dreamed that Jasmine would hit him so hard. Yet he knew that the pain he felt now was nothing like the torment she would soon feel. The thought brought a smile to his face.

Of course, an voice whispered from deep within, since the spell worked then that means…

"Shut up," Mozenrath said aloud, causing Xerxes to look at him in wonder. This was no time to become consumed with minor details. There was much he had yet to do.


	5. Family Connections and Bleak Choices

Chapter 5: Family Connections and Bleak Choices

Agrabah stretched out below them like a welcoming embrace, but Cassim wondered if it truly was ready to greet and accept him. Aladdin had assured him multiple times that the Sultan said that he would be pardoned if he helped to rescue Jasmine, but he still felt uneasy. He trusted Aladdin's word, and didn't think the Sultan had been lying, but there was many who wouldn't be so quick to just forget his past. There were times when he had trouble forgetting about it himself. Quietly, he sat back on Carpet behind his son and daughter-in-law as they swooped down into the palace.

There was a general cry of celebration when Princess Jasmine was seen alive and physically unharmed, but the joy froze upon the guards' faces when they saw Cassim. They appeared shocked and uncertain what to do next, but the Sultan seemed to break the spell as he ran animatedly to his daughter.

"Jasmine!" he cried, rushing towards her as fast as his short legs could carry him, "I'm so thankful to see you alive and well! Are you okay? We should get the physicians to check you at once!"

The princess smiled gently as she took her father's hands. "I'm fine," she assured him, "Aladdin and Cassim rescued me before Mozenrath could do anything."

Abu looked insulted and screeched something that sounded like, "I helped!" as he crossed his furry arms across his chest.

The Sultan cleared his throat and walked purposely towards Cassim. "I told Aladdin that any man who helps to save my daughter would be pardoned of past crimes," he said, "and I am a man of my word. From this day forth, you are welcome in the palace and in all of Agrabah."

"Thank you," Cassim replied, bowing slightly.

"Now, I must find those physicians," the Sultan said, "Please, dear, take a seat and I'll go find the doctors to attend to you." Talking and muttering to himself, the Sultan disappeared into the inner recesses of the palace as Jasmine, following her father's advice, sat down in a nearby chair. The guards followed the Sultan, but Razul paused long enough to take one long look at Cassim, a dark look upon his face. I'll be watching you closely, the look said, and I'll be just waiting for you to slip up. With almost a bull-like snort, he finally left the room.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Aladdin asked Jasmine, sitting on the arm of her chair.

"I'm fine," she answered, "Like I said, you and Cassim got there before Mozenrath could really do anything. He used some sort of incense to make me fall asleep, but I wasn't completely unconscious. I could hear everything he said, and then, the next thing I know, Cassim was freeing me."

"What did he say?" Cassim questioned suddenly.

"What?" Jasmine asked in a confused tone.

"You said you could hear everything Mozenrath said," Cassim clarified, "Did he say anything unusual?"

"Well, there was one thing that stood out to me," Jasmine responded, "I heard him mumble several times, 'I almost hope this doesn't work.' It didn't make any sense to me."

Aladdin frowned. "That doesn't make much sense, and it doesn't sound like something Mozenrath would say."

Cassim slowly stroked his chin. "That is odd," but his voice betrayed his distracted state of mind.

"Is there something wrong?" Aladdin asked. He turned slowly, fixating his father with a strong gaze. "I've been wondering, do you know Mozenrath? He certainly acted strange when he saw you."

Cassim met Aladdin's stare fully. "I've never heard of this Mozenrath before the other day," he answered, no trace of deception in his voice, "But I don't want to lie to you, Aladdin. There is something familiar about him."

"What do you mean?" Aladdin took a few steps towards his father as Cassim's eyes drifted towards the highly polished floor.

"Every time I see him," he said slowly, "I can't help but be think he looks like Marid might have once he had grown."

"That's impossible!" Aladdin cried.

"Who's Marid?" Jasmine asked.

A tense pause followed, Jasmine's question hanging on the air like the last autumn leaf caught in an early winter breeze. Aladdin's eyes never left Cassim as he finally answered. "He was my brother, but he's dead. He died when I was five years old. Right, Dad?"

Cassim didn't answer at first, his dark brown eyes distant. "Right?!" Aladdin yelled, "Or is that something else you lied about?"

"I thought he was dead," Cassim said in a flat and pained voice, "In the sense that Marid was lost to us forever."

"Hey, aren't we jumping the gun here?" Iago interrupted, "Even if Al's brother is alive, there's no proof that it's Mozenrath. Just because they look a little alike-"

"I don't look like him!" Aladdin shouted suddenly, but the others shared a sad glance at one another.

"Honestly," Jasmine said, "There are certain similarities."

"No," Aladdin said, shaking his head, "I refuse to stand here and listen to this garbage. Mozenrath is my enemy, an enemy to Agrabah, he is not Marid. He couldn't be." Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he sat heavily upon the floor. To Cassim, he looked like a lost, little boy, and he remembered how hard Aladdin had taken the news as a child. At five, you don't totally understand death, but you feel the pain more poignantly than most adults. You just don't have the words to describe what you feel.

Struggling with his own tears, Cassim sat down beside of Aladdin and hugged him. At first, Aladdin pushed his father's hands away, but finally he consented to be held. Holding him, crying alongside his son, Cassim looked up at the ceiling. "It's time you finally know," he said, tears choking his voice, "exactly what happened that day."

(*)

"Are you sure you should do this?" Joharra asked, standing in the doorway of the tiny shack they called a home.

Cassim nodded as he looked down at his wife, a radiant jewel among the dirt and stones. "I have to," he said, "We have no food left, and I won't have my children starve." He pointed to his two sons who were playing nearby. Aladdin was playing with a stick, dragging it through the sand, his face full of simple happiness and joy. Beside him, Marid sat solemnly, squinting his eyes to stare off into the distance. He was a smart boy, but Cassim was more worried about him than his younger son. Marid seemed to age years each day, and looked upon the world with old and cynical eyes. In his eight years, he seen far too many hardships and trials.

"I know I can't talk you out of it," Joharra said, interrupting his thoughts, "but please, be careful."

"I will," he agreed, kissing her gently on the lips. Calling out a simple goodbye to his sons, he made his way to the far side of town. He whistled an old tune, while trying to forget exactly who had employed him.

Cassim supposed there was a man like Qutaiba in every town. On the surface, he was a wealthy merchant who dealt with high end goods, but in the shadows of the back streets he was a man who could sell you just about anything - no matter how illegal or perverse. Black rumors twisted about the streets, but everyone looked the other way. Men who defied Qutaiba often disappeared in the silence of the night never to be heard from again. It was one of Qutaiba's men who had approached Cassim to ask if he wanted a day's work for a day's pay, and Cassim had been too desperate to turn aside the offer. Now, in the light of a new day, he worried if he was doing the right thing. This would finally put food on the table for his family, but at what price? His only consolation was that his sons were still at home and wouldn't see what he was doing.

After many twists and turns, Cassim made his way into the part of Agrabah that was generally avoided. These dark streets full of questionable shops and shady characters were ignored by the rest of the town, who preferred to live in the illusion that such a place just didn't exist. It was a malignant tumor that the average person hoped would just disappear if they continue to deny its existence. Cassim mulled over this as he walked to where Qutaiba himself was standing.

He was of average height and build, but his face was strangely round and puffy, as if it carried the bulk of his weight. Small dark eyes rested comfortable in fleshy hammocks, and his lips were nearly lost in the folds of his skin. He was leaning against an old building, slowly eating an apple as his eyes moved about the street. Cassim's stomach growled slightly as he looked at the juicy, red apple, but he contented himself with the thought he would be eating from his own table that night. Trying to remain calm, Cassim walked over to him.

"You're the man who's to move my merchandise," Qutaiba said, before Cassim had a chance to introduce himself. There was the slightest hint of a lisp when he spoke.

"Yes sir," Cassim acknowledged, although he wasn't sure if it was actually a question.

Qutaiba nodded, his double chin jiggling slightly. He threw his half-eaten apple upon the ground and ran one hand through his dark, oily hair. "Come with me," he commanded, "And I show you what needs to be done."

He led Cassim around the corner where a series of crates were clumsily stacked. "I need these crates loaded into cart and taken to my store in town. Do you know where that is?"

Cassim nodded and started to verify the location, but Qutaiba continued without giving him a chance. "A few of my men will be bringing the cart by soon. Now, it is of the utmost importance that you don't open any of the crates. No matter how curious you become, you mustn't try look at any of the merchandise. Understood?"

Again, Cassim verified that he understood. Qutaiba's mouth jerked slightly in what might have been his version of a smile, and he turned and quickly left the area. Just as he had said, two burly men soon came up driving the cart, and left it with Cassim with a sneer. Cassim wasn't sure why he was hired to do such a menial job when it was obvious Qutaiba had capable men in his employ, and wondered if it was true that he was always on the lookout for new employees. The truth was, he didn't care. He had taken this job out of desperation, but he would never dream of working for such a man full time. Without talking, he jumped into his task of loading the cart.

The work went by quickly and efficiently, and Cassim started to relax. He was actually whistling again when he happen to glance up and look across the street. The tune died upon his lips as he felt his heart stop. It was impossible, but Marid and Aladdin were standing on a nearby corner. Somehow they had slipped away from their mother and must have followed him.

Cassim yelled and started to run towards his sons. Aladdin froze, standing innocently at the corner, but Marid began to run. No doubt, the boy feared he was in trouble. Cassim ran after him, barking a quick order to Aladdin to stay right where he was, as he hurried down a dark street after his other son.

Marid was fast, twisting and turning, and more than once Cassim thought he was going to lose sight of him. He called out to his son, begging him to stop, but it didn't work. Cassim had been more frightened than angry at first, but felt his patience begin to slip. He yelled one last time just as the boy ducked into an alleyway. Picking up speed, Cassim followed, but stopped dead as he turned the corner. He and his son were not alone in the alley.

A dirty brown cloaked was draped about some sort of creature that floated several feet from the ground. Hands of ragged, fleshless bone hung from torn sleeves, as the dark faceless void seemed to stare at Cassim. In its left hand, it held Marid, who seemed to be too terrified to struggle. In it's right hand, it held a sharp blade, which was pressed against the boy's young, tender throat.

"Let my son go!" Cassim yelled, struggling to keep the fear from his voice.

The creature laughed softly, its rancid breath filling the narrow space. "Certainly a pretty boy," it cooed, "I would like a son such as this."

"Let him go!" Cassim shouted, taking a few steps towards the creature, but it floated back slightly.

"Stand back, or watch your son die in my arms," it announced, pressing the blade deeper into Marid's neck. A tiny pinpoint of blood appeared, and Cassim could tell this wasn't a bluff.

"What do you want?" he asked, "I'll give you anything, just let my son go." He was close to crying now.

The creature laughed again, "I want the boy," it said.

"No," Cassim countered, "I cannot give up my son."

"Then you can watch him die!" hissed the creature, moving the blade. Marid cried out in pain as fresh blood appeared on his slender neck.

"Please," Cassim cried, "don't hurt him."

"You have a choice," the creature intoned, "Say that your son is mine, or I will kill him. You lost him the moment he was in my arms, but now it's up to you whether he lives or dies. Make your choice quick, or watch as the life leaves his body."

"No!" Cassim yelled,

"Say that he is mine!" the creature shouted, "Say it!"

Cassim saw no other way. He couldn't get to his son in time to save him, and he knew the creature wouldn't hesitate to murder. "All right," he finally consented, feeling defeated, "Just please, don't kill him."

The creature laughed joyfully. "He will live," it hissed, "At least, for awhile." Slowly, it began to fade into the shadows.

"Dad?" Marid whispered, tears running down his pale face, but his voice drifted into nothingness as he disappeared along with the creature.

(*)

There was a heavy silence as everyone listened to Cassim's story. Aladdin hadn't said anything so far, but his face had been a myriad of emotions as he listened. Cassim wondered how much he remembered from that day.

"What happened after that?" Jasmine finally asked.

"I went back for Aladdin," Cassim answered, "He was right where I had told him to wait. He asked where Marid was, but I couldn't answer him. I was crying so hard. I went back to Qutaiba's men and told them I had to quit because of my son. They huffed and puffed, but since I hadn't taken anything or looked at the merchandise, they left me alone."

He paused, as he stood up and walked over to the window. Instead of Agrabah, he could see the scenes of the past stretched out before him. "I went home and told Joharra that Marid was dead. I didn't know what else I could do, but I could never give her any details. It destroyed her. It destroyed our home. It wasn't long after I decided to go and pursue more money and riches for my family any way that I could. I had failed to save my son, but I didn't want to fail my family. Unfortunately, that's exactly what I did."

Aladdin looked up from where he was still sitting upon the floor. "What kind of creature was that?" he asked.

Cassim started to say that he wasn't sure, but Iago interrupted him. "It sounded like a Society Shadow," he said.

"What's a Society Shadow?" questioned Jasmine.

"Well," Iago began, "I heard about them a long time ago, but I thought it was just sort of story really. Basically, a long time ago, there was this group of rich, snooty women. You know, the kind that have an inch of snow on their nose from keeping it so high in the air. Anyway, they were traveling with there rich husbands through the seven deserts, but no one wanted them here. They would spend all day making fun of the area and the locals, always comparing it to where they were from and going on how much better things were back home.

"Then, one of them got this black magic spell book. I don't know how exactly, but that's not important. Anyway, these society women starting using the spells to do things to people they didn't like."

"But the spells turned back on them somehow?" Cassim ventured.

"Don't they always," Iago replied, "It cursed them, all of them. Turned them into these shadow creatures with brown cloaks. It even ate their skin away. The bad part was that they weren't dead. They couldn't die. They had to suffer forever, unless they could pass on the curse and it could only be passed to their children - but they didn't have any kids. So, they had to find parents who would give up their children to them. They really wanted boys because a girl would have to eventually pass on the curse to someone else, but the curse would end once it killed a boy." Iago paused, all eyes firmly upon him, "The child would also have to be trained in magic for the curse to be passed on," he added.

Silence hung in the room like a tangible substance until Cassim suddenly gasped. "What did I do? What have I done to my son?"

"Still, there's no real proof that Marid is Mozenrath," Iago insisted, but no one responded. Somehow, they all knew the truth.

Suddenly, Genie popped into the room with his usual explosion of energy, a huge smile painted upon his blue face. He was wearing a white shirt that said, "I Had a Magical Time at Genie Con" and a matching hat. "That was the best Genie Convention ever!" he shouted, "But it's good to be home."

He looked around at his friends, but it was obvious that something had definitely happened while he had been gone. Aladdin was still sitting on the floor, his eyes still red from crying, and Cassim looked just as sad as he stood next to the window. "I have a feeling I missed something," Genie said.

"It's a long story," Jasmine agreed, standing, "For now it would be best for all of us to - ah!"

Aladdin was immediately to his feet as he ran over to his wife. "Jasmine, what's wrong?"

"The baby," she managed to gasp.


	6. Forbidden Secrets and Black Emotions

Chapter 6: Forbidden Screams and Black Emotions

People flitted about the room like nervous insects drawn to a single light in the darkness, and Jasmine watched them through pain hazed eyes. Her father had been nervous when he had found she was pregnant, and had sought out ever physician, expert, and midwife he could find. Any argument about childbirth being a natural part of life had been lost on him, and she hadn't objected all that much. She knew it comforted her father to know there were so many people here to help her, but right now she wished that these strangers were gone and Aladdin was by her side, holding her hand. He could wipe the sweat that gathered like dew upon her forehead as he looked deep into her eyes to tell her that everything would be right.

She also wanted grab him and rip off certain appendages, ensuring he would never father another child.

Her thoughts were scattered and irrational. Throughout her pregnancy she had suffered mood swings, which she had been told were more than normal. Some days she would cry for no reason, or feel anger boiling just beneath the surface - ready to explode at the least provocation. Now it seemed her mood swings had reached new and dizzying heights, as if all her emotions were mere blocks stacked one upon another and falling down in random, jumbled piles. There were no real cohesion or method to her feelings, but one thought ran through the chaos like a single, straight wire.

Her baby was coming.

I just have to focus on my baby she told herself and everything will be fine. Another bolt of pain ripped through her body, leaving her gasping for breath, but she held back the cry bubbling in her throat. Before going into labor, she had promised herself that she wouldn't scream, and so far she had been able to keep that promise. It wouldn't be long now.

The moments that followed were broken and fractured, like the shattered pieces of a stained glass window. A command to push and her complying. Hands laying on her shoulders. A cry, "I see the head!" echoing about the room. More hands reaching, helping. Her feeling the baby slowly being pulled from her body. The single, crystalline cry of a newborn child floating like an angel's song. A soft face turning to look at her and saying, "It's a girl."

Tears slipped down Jasmine's face as she realized that this was all reality. She was a mother, and there was her beautiful baby girl within her reach. Her arms were trembling slightly, the exhaustion of the birth taxing her body, but still she reached for her daughter as the newborn's name tickled her smiling lips. Yet, as she looked upon the child that was presented to her, the smile vanished as quickly as if it had been nothing more than an illusion. Forgetting all about the promise she had made to herself, she screamed hoarsely.

The doors flung open and slammed into the walls as Aladdin ran into the room. Cassim and her father were close behind, but Aladdin was the first the reach her side and take hold of her hand.

"Jasmine, what's wrong?" he asked.

"My baby," she managed, "She disappeared. I saw her, but then she just faded away." Sobs overtook her voice and she found that she could say no more.

"What?" Aladdin cried.

"She's telling you exactly what happened," said one of the people who had been attending to Jasmine. "The child was born and looked so beautiful. I was holding her in my arms. I could feel her weight, but then she simply vanished. It was like she had been made of smoke." The woman dropped her hands to her sides and allow them to dangle uselessly as she seemed to be consumed by the memory.

Aladdin's face grew dangerously dark as his hands clenched in tight fists. "Mozenrath," he growled, "He did this."

"He must have used a natal transference spell," Iago said, "so as soon as the baby was born, it would actually go to him."

"You're talking nonsense," Genie contradicted, "To do that spell, he would have to have a drop of the baby's blood - or be directly related by blood. So that's impossible." Yet, the grim faces about the room seemed to silence him for a moment. "Whoa," he finally said, "I really did miss out on something."

Aladdin slammed his fists down on the side of Jasmine's bed. "If he's done anything to my daughter," he announced deeply, "then I will kill him. If I have to rip him apart with my bare hands, I'll do it." He started from the room.

"Aladdin!" Jasmine cried, reaching out for him, but Cassim was the one who took hold of his shoulders.

"Son," Cassim said gently, "Just remember who he really is. We may not want to think about this, but he is Mar-"

"No!" Aladdin shouted with so much force his father took a step back. "He is not Marid! Maybe he was at one time, but not now. Marid is dead and all that's left is Mozenrath!" He took a few breaths, as if trying to calm his rampaging mind and heart. "I'm going to rescue my daughter," he stated, forcing his voice to be calm.

"I'm going with you," Cassim said simply.

Aladdin nodded and walked from the room stiffly. Cassim, Genie, Abu, and Iago followed, each one silent and solemn. Jasmine wished that she could go with them, but for once she could do nothing but lie there and watch. "Be careful," she whispered, "I love you."

The exhaustion of the day's events started to slowly drag her down towards the valley of sleep, and she realized there was nothing to do but relent. Yet, just before sleep overcame her, a single memory blossomed in her mind like a fragile flower. While she had been in Mozenrath's lab, she had heard him say that he almost hoped the spell wouldn't work.

Had he known that he was related to Aladdin or had he only suspected?

(*)

The anger which churned within him was black and congealed, intermingled with thick ropes of fear, which seemed to fuel and strengthen his rage. Aladdin could never remember feeling like this before, but he held to it, hoping that would give him strength. He had to save his daughter and stop Mozenrath. There wasn't any alternative.

Carpet seemed to recognize their hurry, cutting through the sky with a speed Aladdin hadn't realized was possible. Yet, it didn't feel fast enough to him. Every second Mozenrath was alone with his child was another moment for the sorcerer to do something terrible.

The heart wrenching image of finding the broken and lifeless body of his daughter crumpled on the floor like a forgotten doll flashed across the canvas of his mind, and he had to blink back the tears. He couldn't think like that. Shoving the image deep with the recesses of his mind, he stared straight ahead as the Mozenrath's kingdom came into view. The streets were no longer desolate as a horde of mamluks seemed to be waiting for them. Apparently, Mozenrath had finally decided to revive his half-dead army, but Aladdin didn't hesitate.

"Genie!" he shouted over his shoulder, "Take care of them!"

"I'm on it, Al!" Genie announced. He jumped to the ground, suddenly appearing in a pair of overalls and a construction helmet. An army of tools, from the normal to the bizarre, appeared in his hefty arms as he looked about at the approaching mamluks. "It's time to get constructive, boys!" he cried, and began dispatching Mozenrath's army in the way that only Genie could.

Aladdin didn't pause to watch. Sometimes, even in the most dire of situations, he would find himself amused at Genie's methods, but right now there was no room in his heart for humor. The anger and fear growing within him were weeds choking out the lesser emotions. "Let's go, Carpet," he commanded, hurrying towards his goal.

He was going to save his daughter. His mind wrapped about the phrase seeking warmth and security, but when he tried to speak the words aloud he found himself saying, "He is not my brother. He is not my brother." Chanting it like amantra, he flew on to the palace.

The gate was standing open. Mozenrath was waiting for him.


	7. Forgotten Memories and Final Choices

Chapter 7: Forgotton Memories and Final Choices

The sun beat down on him mercilessly as he stood upon the ragged street, looking at the people who ran by endlessly. No one met his gaze as they hurried past. In fact, only a select few even seemed to notice he was standing there at all, and he felt like a nameless shadow being silently cast upon the wall. Tiny sparks of anger crackled inside him. Someday, he would be someone who demanded attention and no one would ignore him.

A crooked door hanging sideways within it's frame slowly opened, and his father leaned out to look at him. "Come inside," he said gently, his face shining and joyful. He did as he was told and followed his father into their tiny, humble home. His mother was lying on a sagging bed, sweating but there was such happiness on her face. It was a reflections of his father's face, and she was staring down at something wrapped in an old cloth. Her eyes slipped up briefly to look at him as he stepped closer.

"Look here," she said , unwinding the wrappings slightly so that he could see the red face of a baby, "This is your brother, Aladdin."

Mozenrath jumped slightly, the lucidness of the memory startling him, as he quickly smoothed his clothes to regain his composure. It seemed strange how vivid and clear his memories were as they played through his mind endlessly. He had always known he had a life before Destane and the Shadow Woman, but never before could he remember any of it. Sometimes, when he slept, he would see pieces of his memories in his dreams, but they always faded like wisps of smoke when he awoke. At some point, he had simply given up trying to remember, but now it was as the thoughts were tumbling freely from a pitcher. He remembered. He remembered everything.

Yet, despite it all, he found that his feelings had changed very little. He would have thought he would have been outraged to find out that he and the street rat were actually related and shared a certain common past, but he wasn't. In a sense, it really just showed how far he had climbed up in the world and what all of his efforts had brought him. Besides, Aladdin was still the same Aladdin that had been a thorn in his side for far too long and he was still…

(Marid)

…Mozenrath. His plans were the same as always, and now that he had Aladdin's child in his grasp, he was going to have his revenge.

Smiling, he felt his old confidence rushing through veins like a poison as he walked over to the infant. She was just waking up from a magically induced nap, and stared up at him with sparkling, sleepy eyes. Cooing, wiggled her chubby fingers, and it obvious she wasn't afraid. Almost gently, he picked her up.

She looked a little like Aladdin had when he had been first born.

Pushing the thought forcefully from his mind, he looked back at the table before him to make sure all of the necessary items were in place. He had the brown cloak, the one that had been worn by the Shadow Woman. The ends were ragged, but you couldn't even see where he had cut the worn and ancient material to make the second gauntlet he now wore. There was also a small vial and an old, worn book. Yes, everything he needed was here.

Xerxes flew into the room. "Aladdin coming!" he yelled.

"Good," Mozenrath replied, "Lead him here. I want him to see this."

Before Xerxes could comply, Aladdin came crashing into the room, pieces of Mamluks rolling before him, his fear a picture of dark, rumbling anger. Yet, when his eyes fell upon his child resting in Mozenrath's arms, the anger gave way to icy fear. It seemed that he realized that anything he might possibly do could endanger his child.

"Welcome back, Aladdin," Mozenrath greeted, "It seems that you've stopped by to pay me another visit, but I'm really quite busy at the moment."

"Let my daughter go!" Aladdin yelled.

Mozenrath chuckled lightly. "But don't I get a chance to see her?" he asked with a mock pout, "After all, she is my niece isn't she?"

It had finally been said aloud, and the look upon Aladdin's face gave Mozenrath the answer he had already known. "Right, Aladdin?" he pushed.

The darkness overtook Aladdin's face like a storm cloud racing across a clear sky. "You're not my brother," he finally said.

Mozenrath calmly walked over to the table, keeping the child pressed close against his chest. "I don't think denial will do either one of us any good," he responded, "Do you think I'm thrilled by all of this? Of course not."

"You're not my brother," Aladdin repeated.

Sighing as if both bored and disappointed Mozenrath looked at Aladdin firmly. "I think it's time for a new line, because that one's getting old fast."

Before Aladdin could say anything else, Cassim ran into the room. Mozenrath felt his eyes narrow as he eyed the man he remembered as his father - the father who had given him up. Anger overtook him like a crimson sea and for a few moments he was unable to speak.

(*)

Cassim had followed Aladdin just as he had the first time, but his mind was consumed by guilt and questions that had no answer. Aladdin was his son, but so was Marid. Would he really be able to help one to defeat the other? What if he had tried to save his son all those years ago? Would death as a young boy be better than a curse that was now killing him? Yet, he realized that this wasn't the time and place for such questions and worries. He couldn't change the past no matter how many times he replayed the events within his mind. For now, he had to concentrate so that he could save his granddaughter. Finally, he managed through the last of the Mamluks and hurried after Aladdin.

Aladdin had found his older brother, who was standing before a large table with the child in his arms. Cassim was relieved when he saw the baby appeared unharmed, but he felt the angry gaze from his oldest son as it burned across the room. How could he have not recognized when he saw him in the marketplace? Those eyes, the brow line, and the nose were all his own, but the lips, chin, and fair complexion were those of Joharra. Tears pricked his eyes as he looked upon their remnants of his late wife.

Cassim took a single step forward. "I guess you know who I am," he said.

The sorcerer laughed, trying unsuccessfully to push his anger down below his composure and confidence. "It doesn't really matter," he replied.

"It does matter," Cassim insisted, taking another step, "And I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Marid spat out the word, "No, I don't think you're sorry now, but you will be." He laughed, as he picked up the vial and brought it close to the baby's mouth.

"What are you doing?" Cassim asked.

The serpentine smile that slid across his face startled even Cassim. "It's not fair," he said slowly, deliberately, "that Aladdin has everything. He has a genie, he is line to rule a kingdom, and now he even has a daughter. I've worked and gave up so much just to watch everything handed to him, but that ends here." He laughed aloud. "Aladdin can have other children, but this one is mine! I needed someone to pass along everything I have. She will take up the gauntlet after I'm gone."

"No!" Aladdin screamed. He was poised to move, but was afraid to do anything. His child's life was at stake.

Cassim realized that Marid was going to attempt to pass on the curse to the infant, and he suddenly felt cold as if standing in a pool of icy water. It was because of his actions that Marid was cursed and, if he didn't do something, his granddaughter would be as well.

"I won't let you do this, Mozenrath," Aladdin said.

"And how are you going to stop me," was the quick reply, "Besides, don't you think this is only fair? I mean, on top of everything else you even bring your father here to stop me." His emphasis on 'your' hurt Cassim, but Aladdin seemed to have an idea.

"Dad ran off right after he lost you," Aladdin began.

Marid stopped as if frozen in time and eyed Aladdin levelly, apparently to see if he was lying. "He didn't exactly lose me," he replied in a slightly subdued tone.

"But he left us, both me and mom. Do you remember our mother?"

Marid didn't answer as he kept his eyes locked on Aladdin. Cassim took a few steps closer while he still had the opportunity.

"Mom died a few years later," Aladdin continued, "I don't think she ever got over you being gone. I used to cry in her sleep and call your name."

There was a slight chuckle. "Do you really think this is going to work, Aladdin?" he asked, "Do you think I'll believe these lies?"

"It's the truth!" insisted Aladdin.

"It's all lies," Mozenrath countered, "Our coward father may have run off, but it wasn't because of me. He all too easily gave me up. And why would mother be so upset? She still had you! The golden son! He who could do no wrong!"

Cassim watched the scene unfold, his eyes never drifting from his oldest son. For all of the sorcerer's elegance, the words were more like that of spoiled child - or a lost, eight-year-old boy. Suddenly, Cassim realized what he was really seeing. There were two people here arguing with Aladdin: Mozenrath, the ruthless ruler of the black sand, and Marid, a child with hurt feelings and normal jealousies.

"There's been enough talk," Mozenrath announced. He looked back to the child and put the vial to her lips.

The next moments were an amalgamation of fast and slow. It happened so quickly that there wasn't a chance to breath, barely a moment to think. Simultaneously, every second seemed suspended in time, each detail imprinting itself upon Cassim's mind. He had moved as close to Marid as he could while Aladdin had been talking, and now he was forced to make his move. He jumped forward to save his grandchild. The vial fell to the floor, clattering upon the smooth surface as the child fell harmlessly upon the cloak lying on the table. Marid's eyes were wide and full of hurt as he turned his face towards his father. He couldn't see the dagger in his back, but the pain imprinted on his face clearly said that he felt it's blade.

Tears streaked down Cassim's face, cutting through the dust in muddy trails as he held on to his son's slumping body. The face that turned towards him seemed to grow younger, the dark eyes truly that of a boy, and his mouth was trembling. Mozenrath seemed to have died the moment the dagger made impact, leaving only Marid to feel the pain.

"Father, why?" he managed, his voice young and hesitant.

"I had to save you," Cassim answered, crying harder, "It took me this many years - too many years, but I still had to save you."

Marid seemed confused, his smooth brow knitting slightly, as he studied his father's face. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to speak, but too much of his life had drained away. Instead, he closed his eyes silently as his body went completely limp. He was dead. His son was dead.

Cassim almost howled with sorrow. This was the second time he lost him, but only now was allowing himself to truly mourn. Aladdin watched without speaking, holding his child in his arms, as his father's cries filled the desolate land.

On the floor, the vial lay innocently. It was empty and dry. It had been empty the entire time.

(*)

The ride back to Agrabah was subdued and usually quiet. Even Genie was silent, looking back and forth Aladdin between Cassim. While everyone know that Mozenrath was dead, only Aladdin and his father knew what had exactly transpired. Aladdin wasn't sure if he would every be able to tell any all of the details, even Jasmine. To be honest, he wasn't even sure if he understood it all.

His daughter lay happily in his arms, innocently unaware of everything that had happened. Aladdin smiled at her before turning to look at his father, who seemed to have age ten years in this single day. He was sitting at the back of Carpet, wordlessly looking at the worn book they had found on Mozenrath's table. It was a children's storybook.

Inside the front cover had been written, "Happy birthday, Marid. Love Dad." Apparently, Mozenrath had been carrying the book the day he had been kidnapped and had kept it all these years.

Aladdin sighed as he glanced back, as if trying to see Mozenrath's palace in the distance. He would have thought the day he defeated Mozenrath for good would be a time for rejoicing and celebration, but he felt empty and bitter. In those last few moments, he had found Marid once more only have him taken away. It wasn't that he blamed his father because he realized that was the only thing that could be done, but he couldn't help but feel anger. More than a little of it was aimed at himself.

"Why do you think he did it?" he finally asked aloud, causing everyone to turn towards him, "Why would he be pretending to pass on the curse like that? I mean, even if he thought that he could, why use an empty vial?"

"I think that was Marid," Cassim answered.

"What do you mean?"

Cassim's eyes were still red, but his voice had regained some of its strength. "Both of them were there," he explained, "Mozenrath and Marid. They were the same person, but at the same time they were separate." He scooted forward next to Aladdin. "I think Marid tricked Mozenrath. A part of him wanted revenge, but the rest just wanted it all to be over. He wanted the curse to end." He looked down at his granddaughter and she smiled. "I want her to have this," he said, handing Aladdin the book.

Aladdin thought of rejecting, but decided that perhaps it would be best. It seemed that Mozenrath had given her a gift after all.

(*)

The land of the black sand was never a noisy place, but without Mozenrath it seemed to be a deeper, thicker kind of quiet that settled over the land like a thick fog. Xerxes missed his master, and he flew over the bed where his lifeless body had been laid.

Aladdin and his father had talked about perhaps taking Mozenrath with them, but Xerxes had been mad and upset. He insisted that his master stay there where he belonged. He knew Aladdin could stop him and do what he wanted, but he still insisted Mozenrath should remain here. Oddly enough, Aladdin had finally agreed, saying something about how this had been his home. Mozenrath had been carried to his bedroom and laid upon the bed.

Yet, things were strange because Xerxes had heard a voice whispering. It said that Mozenrath was cold and should be covered in the cloak. Xerxes didn't know how he could be cold or why he should use a cloak instead of a blanket, but he didn't argue. He had gathered the cloak and covered it over Mozenrath. The voice was quiet now, so Xerxes didn't know what he should do next.

His answer came quickly when Mozenrath suddenly opened his eyes and sat up in bed. Xerxes was very happy and quickly began flying around his head. "Master all right! Master all right!"

"I am, but how?" Mozenrath seemed dazed, but then he looked down at the cloak draped across him. It had healed his back, the fabric stitching itself into his skin. With amazement, he stood and slowly walked across the room to a window.

In the distance, he could see Aladdin hurrying away but he made no move to follow at the moment. "The cloak brought me back," he said woodenly, "because the curse has to kill me. I guess that's a fragile sort of immortality." He laughed without humor.

"Go after Aladdin now?" Xerxes asked.

"Not now," Mozenrath answered, "Not right now."

Without saying another word, he left his bedroom, leaving Xerxes to celebrate. It seemed as if things had returned to normal, or at least a something close to normal.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first got the idea for this story, I didn't know how common the whole Mozenrath is Aladdin's brother stories really were, but I still liked how this one turned out. If I were to ever rewrite it, there are definitely some chapters that could be fleshed out a bit more.


End file.
